


If he never came back

by lizmindpalace



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Benedict Cumberbatch - Freeform, Fanfiction, Heartbreaking, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-11-06 01:54:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11026146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizmindpalace/pseuds/lizmindpalace
Summary: What if nothing was real?





	1. Chapter 1

The night was cold and silent, but it was like any other night; alone in his bed, looking at the roof, thinking about her again and some tears over his cheeks, just waiting to the fatigue to take him to the sleep arms and forget about everything for just some hours.

It seemed he had got it, because he fell asleep just some minutes later. His eyes were still wet, nobody knew it but he used to cry all the nights, the pain was too much.

“John?” he heard that soft voice, talking to his ear.

He didn’t open his eyes, he was afraid that if he did it, everything would finish there, as a dream

“John?”

The voice again. He felt happy but he knew that was just his mind playing with him even though it seemed so real.

“I miss you too much” he said after a minute. “I wish you were here with me, I’d do anything, I swear anything.”

He tried to contain his cry. He didn’t like to cry, he was a _soldier_.

“But I’m with you. I will always be with you.”

“I know, but no in this way.” He breathed slowly, he had a knot in the throat. He opened his eyes, and saw her. He looked at her feeling how everything inside him was breaking. “Ok, is this about Rosie right? I’m going.”

“Who?”

“Rosie. I mean Rosamund. Our _daughter_.”

“Oh John!” She laughed “What are you talking about? I think you were having a dream. Or maybe you are drunk”  

John sat in his bed, next to Mary who sat too, he felt confused.

“Our daughter.” She laughed “It’s cute, and I’d love to, but John, we don’t have any child.”

A storm was over his brain and a headache attacked him.

“Are you ok? It was just a dream.”

Was all of that real? Everything was just a dream? The life could be so beautiful?

“I’m ok”

“I know you’re sad because the day is coming, but I’m with you.”

“What day?”

“Oh John” She hugged him “It’s everything alright”

But what was she talking about?

“We should try to sleep again, tomorrow we have to wake up early, and it’ll be a long way. But remember I’ll be always here with you.”

The silence predominated for some minutes more, but finally a whisper broke it.

“What day Mary? Where are we going tomorrow?”

John was about to cry because an idea had taken shape in his brain. Despite the happiness of knowing that Mary was alive, there was something wrong.

“To the cemetery John. Didn’t you forget it, did you?”

“Why are we going?”

“John are you sure you’re ok? You’re scaring me”

“Just tell me why.” John told her with a broken voice.

“Because your best friend, Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes… Tomorrow three years ago, he _killed himself_ … we go every year to his grave.”


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened next? The confussion for John is still there.

John finally had fell asleep while Mary tucked him as if he were a little child and he cried in silence. It had been three years ago, and he hadn’t been able to get over that loss though. The pain was as intense as when she had known him, or at least she could see it in the way he reacted, and she would never understand it.

The night was completely normal, she fell asleep too, just after she checked he wasn’t crying anymore and he was peacefully sleeping.

He didn’t say anything when he woke up, she neither, she understood, he might need the silence consolation in order to take in the facts. It had been a big pain for him.

The cemetery looked more desolated than he remembered; it seemed abandoned in the ruin, as if its residents were deleted of the memories of those who were still enjoying of the life. He went through the main path carefully, trying to avoid disturbing the dreams of the bodies were in, beneath the ground, those people who had gone, leaving families, friends…

After he had walked for a short time, he could see the place he was looking for.

It was the loneliest grave in all the place. The dust and other wastes brought by the wind, accumulated along a whole year was visible over the black marble and the golden letters that reminded him the name that he would never be able to forget; his pulse accelerated, an indescribable fear invaded him when he looked at the final resting place of his best friend in such conditions, knowing that he had be guilty, he had left him, as in life, John was the nearest to a family for Sherlock, certainly Mycroft hadn’t been responsible of anything about his younger brother since the funeral.

When he finally arrived to the place, he could feel a knot on his throat, the condition of the place was worse than he had perceived, the melancholy that it produced was terribly unbearable, some tears fell over his cheeks while he tried to dissimulate them, putting his hand over both eyes, pressing them.

 “Sherlock, I” he started to talk with a broken voice, Mary took his hand at the same time “Forgive me! I’m sorry for leaving, and let your… your grave in such bad conditions, and because, I left you alone, I know how you should be feeling, completely alone, I…”

John’s speech was interrupted by his cry, he couldn’t contain it anymore. Mary offered a bouquet of white roses, he took it and went to the grave to set them in the place, and she went too and helped to clean up the grave.

 “It’s ok John” she said, caressing him “he knows how much you care about him, and how much you miss him”

But he didn’t listen, he was disconsolate.

“No, it’s not true, he is not dead”

“John… please”

“No, he is hidden in some place” John turned to see the trees, hoping to see something, or _someone_ hidden in the dark “Sherlock? Are you there, isn’t it? Why are you doing this?”

“John, please, we should go home.”

 “He is not dead!” John screamed, he was more aggressive than he should

“You saw him jump off” she whispered

John fell on his knees, he hid his face with his hands, Mary followed him, tried to hug him

“John, it’s ok, he’s dead, let’s go home. You’ll feel better, I know how much he meant for you. But it has finished”

“No” he replied, staring at her, she felt a bit scared “He’s not dead! You’re dead!”

Mary kept silence and stood up.

“Fine. I’m glad to know that for you I’m dead”

“Mary… I didn’t mean to say that… it’s just that…

But she didn’t listen, she had returned to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading, comment what you thing about it, sorry for mistakes and well this is the second chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this should finish here or I should write more, let me know what you think about it.  
> Liz x


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